Genesis Arbus Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

Alright, mate, buckle up—talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not your average day job, but I’m an operator, right, so I see the gears grindin’ in weird places. Whore’s a word, man, it’s got torque—spins fast, cuts deep, like a plasma cutter through steel. Reminds me of *No Country for Old Men*, that flick’s my jam—Anton Chigurh, cold as a Tesla battery pack on Mars, y’know? “What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss?”—imagine askin’ a whore that, ha! Dark humor, mate, gotta laugh or you’re toast.

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Let's call it a honeymoon, all right? And you are gonna pay for it. Then I'm going to return to a rape-free workplace, all right? Because if you so much as look at my sexy little ass, Julia, I will .

Anyway, I’m sippin’ my coffee, feeling all good. Then BAM! I step outside, and it’s like the universe decided to throw a curveball. I’m walking down Corso Umberto, and suddenly, this pigeon—like, the biggest pigeon I’ve ever seen—decides to take a dump right on my shoulder. I’m standing there, frozen, coffee in one hand, and I’m like, “Really, dude? Really?”

The questionable legacy of Diane Arbus.